Title: Relativity
Author: Bee
Disclaimer: I only own Sophie, the plot bunnies and a copy of Tin Man on DVD.
Summary: Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah . CDG UST.
A/N: Blame Celia Stanton for the ridiculous amount of angst herein. All I did was tell her about this bunny that wouldn't leave me alone - and she decides to fan the flames. Then the super angst developed and we've got something that equivocal to Paper Flowers. Oh, well, I'm on the angst train right now I guess. Enjoy.

Everything was relative, he'd decided.

Eight months could feel like eight minutes or eight annuals If he'd been asked, he would have said it was the former; but that wasn't accurate. It didn't feel like eight minutes since he'd left the royal residence in Central City. It felt like a century.

He hadn't belonged there - that was painfully obvious within the first few days. The Queen, for all her beauty and grace, was a monarch and had made it very clear that nothing was going to hinder the restoration of her House. And that, apparently, included him.

But he'd stayed, despite the Queen's disapproval, because DG had asked him to. It wasn't the best decision he'd ever made. But he seldom made good ones anymore.

He was weak around her. But she was weak around him too. It was the worst kind of equation - the kind with only one solution.

He'd managed to restrain himself for a long time - citing duty and honor and everything else he could think of when that all too dangerous urge started to prickle under his skin. He thought he'd had it in check, but fate has a way of spiraling out of control.

He could remember the day, vividly.

It was raining - thunder and lightning rocking the earth below their feet. Azkadellia - who had been doing so well for someone so broken - had a fit during tea. It had sent DG to her room in guilt-stricken tears. He had gone to see her - make sure she was all right.

But what he had found was a broken girl in a heap of blue satin.

He kissed her then. He'd kissed her and she'd kissed him back. He tasted her guilt on his tongue - he swallowed her apologies - he kissed away her tears. His own tears came then too. Because she wasn't Adora and he found he didn't want her to be.

He'd tried to stop, but she needed him and he wanted her and it felt good to be needed again. And he'd known it was selfish - known she deserved better - but he hadn't cared. He wasn't sure he cared much now either.

And clothing had disappeared with far too much ease - forgotten and ignored, exactly like the world around them - and it didn't matter that she was a princess and he was a Tin Man or that he still loved his wife and she didn't even love herself; all that mattered was two people, stripped of everything else, finding solace from their guilt.

And when they could breathe again he'd left her alone in bed. He'd left because he'd wanted to stay and it was too confusing as to why. But she hadn't cried about it - she'd thanked him for his comfort and asked him to leave.

His wedding ring scorched his finger even as he'd walked away.

And two weeks later he'd been summoned by the Queen. She'd sent him to the far edge of the Eastern Guild to help set up a town and military outpost. He hadn't complained. He needed to get away from the stifling air of the palace, made ever warmer by DG's presence.

He'd needed to get away from her.

And he hadn't cared to think on her in almost an annual.

But now he wondered if he should have; he wondered because Royal Carriages never traveled this far to the East and they never did so in the middle of the night.

But DG was not like the rest of the royal family and, he realized, he'd missed her.

But it wasn't DG who stepped from the dark carriage into the pale moonlight. He saw fair hair hidden with a crimson hood and a familiar look of disdain in cold lavender eyes. He bowed shortly and invited her into his home.

She sat him down then, with distrustful eyes, and a forced tone.

"My daughter has had a child, Mr. Cain. A girl."

His jaw tightened and his eyes flashed. He hadn't even heard she was pregnant.

"She is yours."

It was suddenly quite difficult to breathe. A daughter. He had a daughter.

"As you are likely aware, an illegitimate heir will cause undue turmoil which our House cannot afford. Now or ever."

He was aware. "Well, she won't be illegitimate if DG and I get married."

The Queen's laugh was mirthless. "Mr. Cain, as you well remember, I believe your conduct with my daughter to be vastly inappropriate, but it will be far more inappropriate for you to marry her. No, Mr. Cain, that is not how these matters are handled."

He ground his teeth together. "Then how are they handled?"

"DG has agreed to send the child away."

He arched an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem like DG."

Lavender eyes sparked. "DG understands the political ramifications of your actions, Mr. Cain, and she is willing to amend her mistakes."

He didn't miss the insult. "So, the little girl, where is she?" His eyes scanned the room.

"My page will bring her in. You understand that she must never know of her heritage and you must never bring her back to the palace. She must not exist to anyone but you."

His jaw tightened again. He wanted to ask her why. Why another of his children was supposed to grow up without a proper family? His son had lived most of his life with one parent - now his daughter was being forced to do the same. And once again, his own life was out of his control. Someone was deciding how he - his family - lived. He opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut; he knew the politics. He knew the sacrifice DG was making. He couldn't take it away from her. He didn't agree with it, but he would do it - for DG.

He nodded.

"Good." The Queen clapped her hands. A skinny young man entered, a bundle in his arms. Cain stepped forward and pulled the bundle close. She was tiny, impossibly so, and he was afraid he might break her.

Her hair was dark and her eyes wide and blue - one day she would be able to convince him of anything with those eyes. She didn't cry in his arms. He'd thought she might. But she just stared at him with a look that reminded him far too much of her mother.

"DG called her Sophie." And the Queen was gone.

He barely noticed her exit.

"Sophie," he whispered. His Sophie.

"My mother would like all of these boxes to be taken to the incinerator." Azkadellia's voice was stronger than it had been in almost two decades. She felt a thrill when the servants scurried around her feet again. She hadn't ordered anyone about for so long - frightened that they'd see the witch and not the woman - but she was a Royal Princess of the Outer Zone and it was time she started to believe it.

Cleaning - that's what Az was good at; it's how she helped. It was insignificant in the greater scheme of things, she knew, but she felt comfortable giving a place to everything - ironic because she hadn't yet found a place for herself.

DG appreciated the extra help though. Things were getting cluttered around the Central City Residence and the new Queen needed the space. So their mother had elected to move her office to Finaqua - where she and Ahamo spent most of their time anyway. Azkadellia had volunteered to box everything up for her.

"Ambrose," Azkadellia turned to the man behind her mother's desk, sorting through the drawers and packing away her things.

The Advisor looked at her. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"Are you almost done?"

Ambrose nodded. "Yes, my lady, I've got this last drawer to get through."

He took the pages from the desk and flattened them onto the desk. They were the Queen Mother's letters, it seemed - all opened envelopes. Ambrose's eyes absently scanned them over as he placed them reverently in the box with her other things.

But something caught his eye.

A name: DG's.

Nearly a dozen letters were addressed to the current Queen. All of them had the same return address: Wyatt Cain.

He had two choices. One told him to put the letters into the box - they were not his to read; but the other told him that they were not the Queen's to read either, and no one had heard from Wyatt Cain in many annuals.

He forgot to remember to be loyal to his former Queen.

"Princess."

DG -

Not sure if you want to hear about this - your mother never mentioned - I'm not even sure I should be writing about it, but I am nonetheless. Sophie is doing well. She's been here a week and hasn't cried once. I think that might be something of you in her. She's tough. Tougher than you'd expect. And curious too. She's always looking at things like she's trying to figure them out. It's a wonder to watch her solve those little puzzles.

I'd forgotten how much having a kid takes out of you. She's already got magic, I swear. At night, she uses it to knock things over until I come into her room to fetch her. She's not too fond of sleeping alone. I think it's on account of the way she was brought here - middle of the night and all. One minute she was with you, and the next - well, it can't be all that easy for a baby.

I still don't understand how you, of all people, could let her go. I would have sworn up and down that you'd be the last person to send your daughter away, considering what your mother did - but I can't argue with the political reasons. Illegitimate heirs are never good for an unstable kingdom.

You take care of yourself now, you hear? We'll do the same. I'll keep her safe, Kiddo, I promise.

Cain

"My Gods." The room was starting to spin. "Sophie is alive?"

"There's more." He handed her another.

DG -

She rolled over today. Sophie rolled over. I was fixing her dinner and I missed it. I looked one moment and she was on her back - I looked back a moment later and she was on her stomach. Amazing, she's barely three months old and she's rolling over. It's got to be that magic in her blood. Wish you could have seen her - hell, wish I could have seen her.

She's a holy terror, I tell you, always getting into things. So much like you, it's unbelievable. And it's not just the looks, though I can see more of you in her everyday. She's brave, Kid, braver than an infant should be. She gets something in her head and doesn't let it go - like a dog with a bone.

We're doing okay, the two of us. No one knows who we are and I intend to keep it that way. I hope you're taking care of yourself, Kiddo. We'll do the same. I'll keep her safe.

Cain

They went on. Cain spoke of the things that DG should have seen: the first smile, first steps, first word. They were letters of regret. And they were filled with questions below the surface. DG hadn't responded to any of the letters. He didn't stop writing. It was too dangerous, he'd said, for her to write back - but he just wanted her to know.

They read every one. They were sporadic - he wrote when something happened - when she'd started school, when she'd learned to ride a horse. And always they held something more, something underneath the words. He wanted her to come find them. To ride out and be with him and their daughter.

Az picked up the final letter. Her head and heart hurt from the words.

DG -

Heard you're getting hitched. Congratulations, Kid. Your mother is happy, I'm sure. She's been waiting for you to pick a prince since you got back here.

Sophie's turning thirteen soon - 'course, you know that already. Gods, it feels like only yesterday that she was begging me to teach her how to read. The damn kid is precocious - more and more like you every single day. By the time she's twenty I'll hardly be able to tell the difference between you two. She's been asking about you - don't worry, I haven't told her anything important - I think she feels a little out of place, not having you around. I'd like to say she's the only one, but she's not.

We both miss you DG. I know that things with us have never been perfect - we've always been fighting our own battles - and I know the circumstances of Sophie's arrival into our lives was not ideal, but she's here now. She connects us, Kiddo, you and me. And I know I'm not your prince and I know that how we live is nothing like palace life - but maybe you could be okay with that. Maybe we could be a family.

Leave your prince, DG - be with a family that loves you.

We'll be waiting.

Cain

Az stared at the words - we'll be waiting - he was still waiting. DG had married her prince. In another month it would be three annuals since. The Royal Princess felt something she'd avoided for almost twenty annuals rise in her throat.

Fury.

Pure and hot and good. It surged through her like liquid fire. It had been her constant companion - like the Witch - and she'd felt its loss acutely. Now - now she felt complete with it running through her veins again.

She left the room in flurry of rage and silk.

The woman who had been Queen was sitting in her drawing room when Azkadellia entered. She got to her feet when she saw the anger in her eldest daughter's gaze.

"What did you do?"

"What are you talking about, my darling?"

"You told DG - you told us all - that Sophie had died."

The Queen Mother paled. "Sophie? I don't understand."

"Sophie - the child whose existence you hid from her own mother!"

"Azkadellia -."

"How could you, Mother? To DG? And Mr. Cain?"

"Mr. Cain took advantage of my daughter - your sister - it was his fault that all of this happened!"

"You read the last letter. He loves her!"

"I did what I had to. To ensure the prosperity of our family -."

The stinging slap stopped her.

It surprised them both.

Azkadellia shook in furry. "Don't you dare, Mother. Don't you dare."

It was a stalemate. Neither moved, barely breathed.

"I'm going to tell her, Mother."

"No! Azkadellia, no. She can't know now."

It would break her heart.

The Princess remained stoic. "She deserves to know what you've done."

She left the room, now with indecision as her shadow. It would kill DG to learn the truth, to read the letters, to know of Mr. Cain's request. And yet, she needed to know about Sophie - her daughter who would be sixteen annuals within the week - she needed to know of their mother's betrayal and of the things that had been hidden from her.

It bore down on the princess' shoulders. But she was used to the weight of guilt.

She would see the truth for herself.

The skies were dark - there was a storm coming. She could feel the prickle of it against her skin. She could taste the water in the air and the smell of it - she had such memories of the smell of the rain. She longed to stay out in it - to be drenched to the bone as she danced in the grass. But her father wouldn't be too pleased - and she didn't need to catch cold right before her birthday.

Father was letting her have Duncan to dinner this year. It was special, he said, for her sixteenth birthday. They'd never had anyone to her birthday parties before. It was always just the two of them together - Sophie and Dad.

She was excited for the change.

The sky was growing darker as she pushed from the garden dirt and gathered the carrots and snap peas she'd collected. The rain would be upon the little cottage quite soon.

She was nearly to the door when she heard the hoof beats - heavy and fast along the path that led through the woods around their home. She knew her father's rules. She scurried around the wood box and knelt to the ground.

She'd asked him why only once. He'd raised an eyebrow and she'd never asked again.

The horse reared to a stop. It was carrying a woman. She heard her father open the door and step out into the cool night. She could see his hat over the wood pile.

"Mr. Cain - it's been a long time." The woman's voice was unsure, frightened almost, but gentle in its hesitancy.

"That it has." Sophie heard the disdain. Whoever this woman was, Wyatt Cain did not want her around.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here."

"Thought had crossed my mind."

"I found these." The sound of rustling papers being passed between the two. "My mother hid them for all these annuals."

"And?"

"DG doesn't know, Mr. Cain, about Sophie. My mother told us that Sophie died a few hours after she was born."

The girl in question caught her breath.

"Your sister's made her life, Azkadellia, and Sophie and I've made ours."

"But she didn't know you wanted her here. Come to Central City with me - tell DG the truth. There's still time to fix this, Cain." Azkadellia begged.

"I thought that once too." He was resigned. Hurting.

"I read those letters, I know how you feel about her."

Sophie saw the top of the hat shake. "That was a long time ago. People change."

"People don't change, Mr. Cain. They want to change, but they don't. Not really."

"And you? You haven't changed?" He didn't believe.

"Not really." Her tone was as clipped as the words she spoke.

"Sophie's not going to Central City, Az."

"I think she should be able to decide that."

"I'm her father."

"She deserves to meet her family - her mother, her brother - do you really want her to live her entire life without knowing who she really is?" DG and Jeb and Glitch and Raw and every member of their odd little extended family. A grandfather being denied the chance to dote on his only grandchild. A half brother unable to protect his baby sister from the boys chasing after her hand.

"Who she is?" Cain's voice was cold. "She is the bastard child of two people who had no business being together."

"She is a princess, Cain - don't forget it. My mother may have orchestrated this situation, but you have done nothing to rectify it. Tell me, when DG didn't respond to any of your letters, didn't you get in the least suspicious?"

Silence.

"I think it's time for you to go, Azkadellia."

"Yes - perhaps I should." She got back on her horse and kicked it forward as the rain started.

He sighed. Sophie had heard it all. He'd seen her hiding behind the wood pile. She was standing when he turned to her now. Arms crossed and a glare that he'd once been so familiar with on her face.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I did tell you."

"No, you told me stories about my mother - and you told me stories about the Queen. Never did you mention the slightly important fact that they were the same person."

Illusions were being shattered. Her father had kept secrets from her. Her grandmother had told everyone she was dead. Her mother was alive - her mother was married and ruled the entire realm. Never had she fathomed this. But she had always assumed they loved her unconditionally and it was beyond their control - namely death - that they couldn't be with her.

"Your grandmother made me swear not to tell you."

"Since when do you take orders from anyone?"

His jaw tightened. "I wasn't going to lose you."

"So you agreed to keep me in the dark for my entire life? What the hell kind of life is that?"

"I told you about her. I told you how I met her. I told you how you ended up here - at least what I knew at the time."

She stretched long fingers in his direction. "I want to see the letters."

We'll be waiting.

"Did you love her?" She folded the letters of her life back into a neat pile.

He sighed. "It's complicated."

"No, no, I think it's very simple. Either you loved my mother or you didn't."

Another sigh. "I had been married before - my wife had died. Your mother, she was this vibrant, wonderful little thing; she just pulled you in until you couldn't possibly fathom getting away."

"But you did."

"Not by my own hand. Your grandmother sent me out here."

Sophie nodded once.

"But I loved her then." He pointed to the letter at the top of the stack.

"And now?"

He paused.

"It doesn't matter now."

Sophie had never been to the city. Her father had always told her that it was no place for a young woman to wander around. But it seemed he just hadn't wanted her to be seen. Hadn't wanted her to see.

She felt the tiniest bit of guilt rise in her throat. She'd left him - without a note - but he'd known. He had to know. She couldn't stay there. Her mother was in Central City. She had to see her for herself.

He'd never told her about how she'd ended up without one of her parents. She had always romantically believed that the woman had died and her father found it too difficult, too painful to talk about.

The truth wasn't nearly as poetic.

"Are you going to just stand there and stare?" Azkadellia's voice broke through the past.

"Hmm?" She'd been caught. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I…"

"Does your father know you followed me?" The Princess looked amused.

Sophie nodded. "By now I'm sure he's figured it out."

"Yes - he won't be pleased."

Her answer was cold. "At this point I don't really care what he thinks."

"That's not true."

"He didn't tell me - he should have told me."

Azkadellia's eyes were sad. "A lot of things should have been, Sophie."

"How did you know? That it was me, I mean?"

"You look exactly like her. Same dark hair, same wide eyes."

They were quiet for a moment.

"I want to meet her - my mother. I want to meet her."

"Yes." The Princess Royal took the young girl by the hand. "We'll tell her together."

Politicians were a species of their own making, she was sure of it. The Governor's meetings were the worst. Men from all over the realm trapped in a confined space for several hours, yelling about their issues, while their Queen sat at the head of the table and wondered why she had ever thought that this would be a good idea - it was never amusing.

Today was just as bad. The Governor of Munchkinland had been going on about repairs to the Brick Route when the Governor of Quadling Country made a comment and the Governor of Munchkinland thought he'd been insulted and the whole thing had blown up from there - leaving DG begging for something to take her mind off their squabbling.

Her wishes came a few moments later when a ruckus louder than the one she'd been listening to erupted out in the hall.

"You can't go in there, Sir!"

"I don't give a damn what you say - I need to speak to DG now!"

She knew that voice.

Blue eyes went wide. She flew from her chair and threw the doors open. The Queen nearly fainted at the man she hadn't seen in sixteen annuals.

She breathed his name. "Cain?"

"DG - where is she?" He'd had to borrow Duncan's horse before following Sophie. DG had to have known the truth now. Az would not have come to him before going to see DG.

DG frowned. "Where is who?" Her mother? Her sister? She didn't know.

"Sophie - where is she?"

She felt her heart stop. "Sophie?"

"Yes, Sophie." His fingertips dug into her upper arms unforgivingly. She would have marks. But it didn't register - nothing did. He was panicked and annoyed and frustrated.

But still, the Queen stared at him in shock. "How do you know about Sophie?"

He was confused now. "What do you mean?"

Her voice was a deathly whisper as she spoke, "Who told you about Sophie?"

He raised an eyebrow but humored her. "Your mother did."

She blanched. "My mother?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

They had agreed - they had all agreed - no one was to tell Cain about the baby. About the loss. It was too much. Even if DG had wished for his comfort - for their shared grief - she hadn't been able to tell him. She'd started a letter once, about fifteen annuals back, but the tears had forced her to bed and the letter had been forgotten.

Now she wished she'd finished it.

"Cain - I…I'm so sorry."

"For what?" He was still confused.

"For not telling you about Sophie. For keeping you from her funeral." Her hands shook and she clenched them tight to stop the tremors.

His jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide. "Funeral? She's only been gone for two days!"

Her heart caught in her throat, stealing the breath from her lungs. She couldn't speak - two days - she was barely able to form thoughts. "What?" she managed.

Realization dawned on him and he felt the world start to turn again. "You haven't seen her yet, then. Gods, DG, you just gave me a heart attack."

"Well, you're working on mine! What're you talking about?" She was panicking. Cain. Wyatt Cain. The man who she'd spent so long trying to forget - who she'd avoided for annuals because the thought of him brought guilty tears to her eyes - he was here, standing in the cold marble hall, telling her he knew about the daughter she'd never revealed.

It was surreal.

And he was looking at her now. Looking at her with the soft blue eyes that had haunted her for annuals - burned behind her eyelids - forever imprinted in her dreams and nightmares. He took a deep breath and she wished she had the strength to do the same.

"Sophie's alive, DG."

The world crashed around her ears and the sound was deafening. "Sophie's alive?" She choked on the words.

He nodded, "Yeah."

No. No. Sophie was dead.

She pulled away from him. Her entire body was trembling now.

"No - no, you're wrong." She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "Sophie is dead - she's dead, Cain."

He caught her arm, "No, DG. She's alive."

She ripped her hand from his. "No! She can't be!"

He saw her tears. And that day came rushing back to him. It had been so many annuals but he remembered it like it had been yesterday. The last day he'd felt whole. He reached toward her again - like he had so long ago - and his fingers grazed her arm.

"She is, DG." His voice was as soft as his eyes. "She is."

He'd never lied to her.

She wrapped herself into him then. Pressed her nose to his chest and soaked his shirt with her sobs. She was still shaking but his arms banded around her - and the trembling slowed.

She looked back up at him - blue eyes red-rimmed and exhausted. "How?" Her voice was small and he was struck by the familiarity to Sophie's.

"Your mother brought her to me. She told me you'd sent her away. I wrote you letters…" He didn't want to talk about that. The last one. The one that had left him waiting for her.

He hadn't stopped waiting for her.

"Azkadellia found them. She came to see us - Sophie heard her talking and ran off to find you." He added. "And I followed her."

"I want to find her."

He nodded. "She's probably with your sister."

Her daughter was alive.

Sophie was alive.

Sixteen annuals. Sixteen annuals. She'd been without feeling for almost two decades. Going through the motions. Now it was different. Everything was different. She was standing beside the man she had missed so terribly. The man who wasn't her husband. The man whose daughter she had lost and who had brought that girl back to her.

She grabbed his hand - that familiar hand that had led her through the OZ when they had barely begun to know one another - and pulled him down the hallway.

"Az! Azkadellia!" She knocked on the door with a heavy fist.

Her elder sister opened the door quickly. "Deeg, thank goodness. We were - Mr. Cain!"

"Hello Az, it's good to see you again." He didn't look too pleased.

"Where is she, Az?" DG tried to peer over her sister's shoulders.

"She's right here." Azkadellia stepped aside revealing a girl with dark hair and large blue eyes. Her mirror image.

Cain spoke first, pulling his daughter to his side. "Sophie, this is DG. Your mother."

But she knew already. They both knew.

"Hi."

Tears struck the Queen again. "Hello."

Sophie looked at the woman who was her mother. Sixteen annuals she'd spent imagining this moment. Sixteen birthdays she'd wished for her mother's return. And now - now that her mother was standing before her - now she was terrified.

But she wasn't alone.

Her mother looked just as frightened - just as unsure about the future. There were no false sentiments, no empty promises. There was just a woman who was as lost as her daughter.

But there was hope around them. She saw hope in her mother's blue eyes. She felt hope in her father's embrace. She heard hope in her aunt's voice. It was the force behind every movement, every breath.

"So," DG's voice was shaky and she cleared her throat. "Are you too old for hugs?"

Sophie's smile was as brilliant as her mother's. She shook her head and stepped into open arms. It felt like coming home. Their embrace was not resigned. They hugged like two women who loved spontaneous embraces. They hugged like they were mother and daughter - finally found when life had forced them apart.

And then daughter embraced father. And sister embraced sister. And tears came and they all cried because they had gone so long without emotion.

There was still betrayal to deal with; punishment to be handed out. A family was separated by politics. A Tin Man who was a father still loved a Queen who could not be a mother.

But there was hope.

And everything was relative.

Fate has a way of spiraling in favor of its own design.

A/N 2: I hope I didn't just kill you all with the angst. That would be very bad. Sorry if I did...though, I hope you enjoyed it before you died!